The Greatest
by Jay Puma
Summary: What determines who is superior? Why do some lose, and others win? Is it hidden strength, or an unextinguishable determination? Does might make an edge harder, or will? This is the very question which brings two into being, and is answered by one remaining. The New Meta Knight's Past! Please read and review.
1. Chapter 1

_ The idea was to see if physical or willpower was greatest. However, it was not anticpated that they would be practically brothers, due to their similarity in general apperance, and that they would grow up side-by-side to form a bond nearly indestructible._

_The first one, the physically strong, was sent a month earlier. With him, there was a letter. The letter went:_

You are ready, with your great power. You may choose to be a leader of soldiers or of people. Whatever you do, you will be readily prepared. You are the most powerful being in the galaxy.

_ This brings us to the story of willpower._

* * *

The passenger inside the ship woke up to hitting his face on the glass. What? Did he hit something? Another violent jarring, and then lights flashing, alarms going off-

This isn't how it was supposed to be! He tried to control the ship, but clouds of the atmosphere blocked any chance of vision until-

When the ship crashed into the ice, the little Star Warrior flew through the glass and the ice, skidding through the reddening snow. The ice world's whipping gray was like camouflage for the newcomer.

His face was scratched up with only one bleeding cut, and his right cheek had a bruise from hitting the glass and ice. With all the strength he had, he rose up, and whirled around when he thought he heard something rummaging behind him. Once the puffball went back to the crash site, no one was there, so maybe it was just the wind?

The ice provided shelter from the outside though, and a contained fire had been started from a broken fuel tank part on the opposite side. Something fluttered out of the cockpit… A note? He waddled over and picked it up off the ice floor.

You aren't ready yet. You have little power, but push yourself and you will become stronger. Don't let anything hold you back. There is no such thing as the limit. Victory is your destiny.

The map inside the cockpit said the closest town was about a two-day trip and the most northern point was about a two-minute hike. The winds hissed outside, and it'd be a while until the sun came up…

_Push yourself…_

The puffball turned to the opening, eying the whipping ice particles outside. There wasn't anything in the cockpit for food; maybe it was supposed to land in a populated area. Either way,

_…and you will…_

-there wasn't any food here. Funny, he wasn't really thinking about food…

_..become stronger._

The stranger waddled out into the cold with the map and note, determined to find civilization.

* * *

For a nonstop marshmellow it was about half a day to rest. A worn, iced-over sign said, "Outpost ahead. Food and Shelter Complimentary." Nice for the people to do that for any travellers of the area, which might be few, considering the negative numbers on the thermometer.

Into the area the puffball wandered, and a bundled up person ran up to him. "Good grief! It's about twenty below, little fella; you'll _freeze!" _He rushed the blue tyke into a cloth hut and by a fire where others were sitting, drinking something warm and sweet-smelling. The ones in the circle flanking him draped a thick quilt over him and offered him a mug.

"Oh, dear," some whispered, "I think he's got frostbite. Look how blue he is."

"What're you doing all the way out here, you poor thing?" a lady asked from across the flames.

"I…" the stranger tried speaking for the first time. "I…I dunno." He blinked at the brown stuff in the mug, and sipped it. Really warm and tasty. Not bad at all. "What's this?"

"Hot chocolate: the best drink for anybody out here," the one who handed it to him said. "But, what do you mean by you don't know why you're out here?"

"My…I crashed here, in my ship, I think." He searched the faces of the bundled people. "Do… do any of you know what I am?"

They all made sounds of wondered and whispered as he drank his hot cocoa.

"Crashed?"

"An alien, maybe?"

"He doesn't seem to mind the cold."

"Wait a second, I think I saw something like him before," one with glasses said, pulling out a book and flipping through the pages. The little stranger put down his mug and leaned in, anxious.

"Ah! 'Metamorphic Puffs…' let's see… Is it hard for you to fill your stomach?"

A head shake no. "Hmm… have you ever acquired abilities from things you've eaten?" No again. "Your eyes are colorless….hmm.

"Ah. You're a subspecies. That explains why you look so similar to a metamorphic puff."

"What…what are those?" he wondered. The biologist handed the book to him.

Metamorphic Puffs are round, squishy creatures that are usually hungry. They have very strong lungs; so strong they are known to suck up and eat people. When they suck up something, they retain the object's properties. They are very interesting creatures that come in a multitude of colors.

A rare subspecies of these creatures have the same physical attributes, but their lungs are weaker and their stomachs are slow to digest their food. Because they have such a slow digestion process, they can live for years on a single crumb. However, they cannot copy the abilities of the food it eats like their cousins. These subspecies have been known to become extremely knowledgeable due to their long life expectancy, and are known to have excellent memory as well. They can become very skilled workers, great warriors and pure geniuses. They can be hard to distinguish from a metamorphic puff, but, the subspecies are known to have colorless eyes which reflect their emotions.

The puff relayed this in his mind over and over again. He wasn't a metamorphic puff, which was powerful, like the letter said that he had little power, too. But he could _become _powerful.

"I guess that explains his blue complexion," one of the scientists remarked.

"I wonder why he isn't cold?"

"Maybe they can adapt to their first environments." The puff stood back up and checked his map again. One and a half days to go. Better start.

"Excuse me, everyone, but I have to leave," he silenced them. "It was nice of you to offer your food and shelter but I must keep going until I find out what I must do."

They all hummed, some with disappointment, worry, or curiosity. Some began to nod.

"Well, if you must, then you must," one said. "Good luck."

"Hang on, you might need some money for your travels," one said, handing him a set of paper with numbers written on them. "Be smart about it; there's only so much, and it'll get you into another town, but if you need more, you'll have to find a job to make more." And soon all the scientists were searching their bags for spare things to give him: a backpack, rope, a blanket, matches, and lastly a folding pocket knife.

"It's a good tool and weapon to have," the geologist explained. "You never know when you might need it."

The shining blade intrigued the blue puff. "Thanks," he said, his eyes becoming a warm blue. These kind gestures were and would be unforgettable… Surely he could spare a few hours to rest his blue feet. So for the next mugs of hot cocoa he listened to stories of the intellects that had saved these for a traveler who could laugh and absorb them.

When there were only two left around the cooling flames with the stranger, the little one stood up and put the backpack on, insisting he'd be all right on his own. The biologist and the one who rushed the puff inside bid farewell before he did.

As he walked away from the outpost, the marshmellow pulled out the letter before it became too dark. He stared at it with green, determined eyes. Whatever he was supposed to be, he was going to become it, and strong at it, no matter what.


	2. Chapter 2

The little puffball's blue feet were sore from walking about five miles nonstop. That was all he could complain about, since if a crumb could feed him for years, then how long would a few cups of hot chocolate last him? Here he was: IciCity, a town that was encased in ice. With all the torches around, though, you'd think it'd melt after a while.

He walked on through the town with the letter echoing in his head: _"Push yourself and you will become stronger."_

But how would he become stronger? What did he have to be stronger at? Well… his blue feet for one weren't helping. How much did shoes cost? And where would he buy shoes?

There was a shop ahead, but when he went in he found armor and weaponry, all as shiny as the pocket knife in his backpack. His eyes gleamed pink with awe.

The store keep didn't really foresee the little stranger as a paying customer, so when the little one had seemed to have found something in the trashcan, the owner walked over and dug it out for him.

"What, this?" he said, holding up a brown sheath with a yellow-orange handle embedded with a red stone. He pulled it from the sheath, revealing no metallic gleam of a blade. "This is just a broken sword." He tossed them both to the blue marshmallow. "Go ahead and take it. It's worthless." Then he focused on a pair coming into the shop. A knight wearing golden armor with a little pink marshmallow like him, but the knight got the shop keeper's full attention.

Meanwhile, the two strange puffs store at each other, white to green eyes. The pink one ran up to him.

"Hi! I've never seen you around here before! You must be new,-oh! Maybe you're a Star Warrior, just like me!"

"Star Warrior…?" the blue one echoed.

"My name's Kirk, and I'm the greatest Star Warrior ever!" he declared. "I'm gonna slay all the monsters in the galaxy and defeat-"

The older knight shushed him by firmly resting his hand on Kirk's head. "Well, well! What have we here?" he wondered. "Another one already? I wonder what this could mean…" The knight looked at the puff ball's hilt and sword.

"Hmm… What's your name, little one?"

"I…I dunno. I don't have one."

The green eyes coming from the knight hummed. "Do you have any family or home?" The blue one shook his head. "I see…" He put his hand on the spot his mouth might be under his armor.

"Hey, Sir Arthur!" Kirk said, bouncing, "Can we take him with us? He could be my personal knight!"

"Knight?" the little one echoed.

"What do you say, little one?" Sir Arthur asked. "Would you like to come with me and Kirk? We're going back to a place where children like you train to become warriors like me. What do you say?"

Train…_"Push yourself..." _The blue one's eyes glowed green as he nodded. Sir Arthur turned to the shopkeeper, "I'll take one lance and one sword for these two here." Then Kirk and the stranger were by themselves for a bit.

"You don't have a name?" Kirk asked. The blue one shook his head again. "Why not?"

"I dunno…where did you get your name?"

"I got a letter!" He nudged a piece of paper into the other's face. "See?"

Kirk,

You are ready, with your great power. You may choose to be a leader of soldiers or of people. Whatever you do, you will be readily prepared. You are the most powerful being in the galaxy.

"I have a letter like this, too…" the blue one murmured. "But… I didn't get a name." And Kirk was the greatest… and he wasn't. Not yet, anyway. _Mine says "become stronger." _As he handed the letter back to Kirk, he eyes glew green with hope. _I have a chance._

* * *

"Sir Arthur, what are we gonna name him?" Kirk asked, boucing about. The trio were sitting in a train, headed for the place the knight was talking about. Their green eyes stared into the puffball atentively.

"Well, his eyes change into different colors," Sir Arthur recalled, humming.

"And he looks just like me!" the pink one pointed out. "Except he's blue."

The blue one eyed Kirk and asked, "Are you a metamorphic puff? The kind that suck up people?"

Kirk bounced up and stood proudly on his seat. "Yeah! And if I suck up fire I turn into 'Fire Kirk!' Sir Arthur thinks maybe I can turn into other things too. Can you suck up things?" The blue one shook his head. "Oh. So you're not like me."

"He's probably a similar species," Sir Arthur informed. "I've heard of them."

"He said he got a letter, too! Where is it?" Kirk asked, bouncing in front of the nameless one. "Let me see, let me see!"

The blue one turned his toes towards each other. "Do I _have _to?"

"I could figure out what it means for you," the knight offered, walking over and taking the space next to the blue puff. "I just hope it's more subtle than Kirk's," he said as the little one handed it over.

"Whatsit say? Whatsit say?" the bouncing pink ball crowded around Sir Arthur, leaning into his view.

"I see… '_push yourself and you will become stronger…'" _His green eyes locked with the stranger, pleased and intent, almost eager.

"I think it's destiny that we ran into each other, little one. You've got potential, is what this letter says, and you need to train to become the best you can be. As I said before, we're going to a place where warriors do just that: train. So you should join us and become a great warrior."

The blue one's face lit up as his eyes went as pink and full of energy as Kirk's body. "Yeah! I'll come, and work hard, and become the greatest warrior ever!"

"But you'll never beat me!" Kirk challenged, "cause _I'm _the greatest!"

"I still don't have a name," the other flailed his nubby arms around.

"Well, then. You're determined to become great. Your eyes change color… Well… I think you should be called _Meta."_

Meta beamed at the name, eyes pink and blue.


	3. Chapter 3

Meta twirled the poker in the air, getting a feel for its weight. He thrust it forward, jabbed the imaginary target, swung it back-

He winced as the other fireplace tools crashed to the floor of Sir Arthur's study. With an "uh-oh," he dropped the poker and pushed the round bin back to standing position. He'd be scolded again if he didn't pick up after himself. The blue puffball picked up his weapon again—

"Aha," Sir Arthur let out, causing Meta to jump and then blush. How long had he been watching him from behind the seat?

"S-s-sir Arthur!" he stammered, and then hurriedly slid the poker back into the bin with the other tools. He stood at attention, shuddering at what would happen to him. He'd only been here for about two weeks; would he get kicked out?

"Meta, the other soldiers tell me you seem very odd." He then explained that the other Galaxy Soldiers, the "other soldiers" who weren't as high-ranking as Sir Arthur, had spotted the blue puff sneaking away from the bedrooms, eating nothing other than sweets at meals, camping out in the fencing rooms, and blanketing himself with capes he'd taken from the closet.

"You also like to stand on top of things," the Star Warrior went on, rubbing his mask where his mouth might be. "I know that we always seem to compare you to Kirk, but these are peculiar habits we don't know what to make of."

Meta eyed the carpet and rubbed his nubby hands. "Are you going to kick me out of this place, Sir Arthur?" he asked.

The knight laughed at this, "Why, of course not," he said, patting the marshmallow on the head. "You're only just a young boy. It's only natural that you goof off." He walked around to his desk and sat down. "Anyway, this isn't why I asked to see you. The others report that you weren't in your bed for the past few nights."

Meta flinched, eyes widening. He knew what he was going to say: "And when they searched for you, they found you in the fencing room." An intimidating Galaxy Soldier found him wide awake the last time, and the puff had stayed in his bed from then on.

"So what were you doing in the fencing room?"

The blue puff swallowed before stammering, "I-I-um, I was, um, practicing…the-uh, moves, we were taught, s-sir…I thought, I could work on them a little more, that I could do better… I'm sorry."

The knight chuckled again, "No, no, Meta. You shouldn't feel sorry for trying harder. You put the most effort into your abilities than the others. But you seem to be interested in swordsmanship, aren't you?"

Since the pocket knife that was given to him gleamed at him, Meta was mesmerized with blades, even the foils in the fencing room which twinkled playfully on their rests. He'd even polished the yellow-orange handle with no blade so that it shined like the sun. Since then, he put it back in the brown cloth sheath and tucked it away. There was just something about blades, the way you had to treat them when you used them, you couldn't just pull a trigger or just throw them, you had to _know _how to swish, jab, thrust, and swing them, and no sword was the same weight, length, or kind. Swords held some sort of majestic mystery to them.

"Yes, Sir Arthur, I like sword fighting. I think it's the best way of fighting, and I wanna be the best swordsman in the galaxy, no matter what challenges I may face."

Sir Arthur hummed. Ever since Kirk and Meta arrived, they seemed to show polar opposition for creatures who seemed so alike: Kirk was strong with his unique ability, and easily ready to stop training, since he was possessed with the idea that he was the greatest warrior and that he had no reason to be fooling around with the others; Meta was weak physically, but strong at heart, eager to learn and improve, always eager for training and never giving up.

"I see. Well, then," Sir Arthur stood up and showed Meta to the door-"-please excuse me, Meta, but I need to be left alone for a few minutes."

Meta wandered into the lunchroom to find Kirk eating a turkey leg. The blue puff had a bag of Sweeties' Lollipops and popped one in his mouth before walking up to Kirk. "Hey Kirk," Meta asked with it in his mouth. "Kirk, I'm back."

After popping the bone out of his mouth, Kirk replied with, "So what was it all about? What'd he say?"

"He wanted to know what I was interested in, you know, and then he let me out."

"That's funny. He did the same thing to me yesterday." The pink ball closed his green eyes and held his head high. "I figured he wanted to just tell me that I was the best student ever, and was gonna ship me off to another harder school, or just graduate me to a Star Warrior and lemme fight with the rest of the Galaxy Soldier Army, where I should be, defeating eNeMeE!"

"I know, Kirk," Meta replied. "But he seemed like he was making a decision before he let _me _go, Kirk." His eyes grew a sickly green. "What if he's sending you to a different school, Kirk? Or me to a different school?"

"He won't send you to a different school, Meta," Kirk assured his friend. "Not over my dead body! I'll _make _him stick you with me through my school, and protect you, Meta!"

"Yeah!" Meta thought. "If _you _don't protect me, who will, Kirk?"

* * *

Then a few days later a strange knight appeared, with an orange-red ponytail like Sir Arthur's green one, who Sir Arthur greeted as an old friend. The golden-armored knight called the young Star Warriors over.

"I'd like you to meet Sir Dragato," he said, then to Dragato, "this is Kirk and Meta, the two Star Warriors."

"So these are the two," Dragato remarked, nodding. "It's an honor to meet you two; Arthur's told me so much about you." Meta's eyes turned into a no-particular shade of green. "Aha," Sir Dragato remarked. _"You_ must be Meta, then." The blue puff nodded.

"And _I'm _Kirk!" the pink puff proclaimed, making the white knight chuckle.

"All right you two; go back to your training," Sir Arthur prompted. As the day went by, Sirs Arthur and Dragato were in the same rooms as Kirk and Meta, like-

"I think they're talking about us, Kirk," Meta whispered, with red hawk eyes.

"Of course! I'm the best, and you're my friend: that's why. Stop worrying, Meta!"

* * *

"I won't let you take him away!" was the first thing Meta heard: Kirk's voice echoing down the halls, and then Kirk ramming into Meta. The pink puff was shaking and sniffling.

"What's the matter, Kirk? Do you have a cold?"

He started to push Meta towards the bedrooms. "Just go hide, Meta! He's coming, coming to take you away!"

"Wha- who, Kirk?"

"That weird Drag-Knight guy! He said- he's coming!- he's going to take you away!"

"What?!" Meta's eyes turned pink and then green, and by the time they were white Sirs Dragato and Arthur had found them. Kirk puffed himself out in front of his friend.

"You can't! You can't take him! He's my best friend and you can't take him away!"

"Kirk," Arthur started, raising a hand to quiet him. "It's all right. I know you two are practically brothers, and this is going to be hard for both of you, but, it's for the best."

"What's for the best?" Meta mumbled, eyes a dark forest green. Dragato glanced at his fellow knight and received a curt nod. The silver-armored knight stepped towards Meta and faced him.

"Meta…Sir Arthur has been writing about your inept ability at swordsmanship," Sir Dragato started. "You see, I too, am a swordsman, and was interested about you and your strong will towards the craft.

"So I wrote back asking if I could take you under my wing, so to speak; to _train _you, Meta, as a great swordsman. Sir Arthur let me come to see you, to see for myself how obstinate you were towards your training. He was right.

"Now I am certain, that you would make a powerful knight, skilled in swordsmanship," he said, "if you had more opportunities to hone your craft. If you became my apprentice, you'd be able to practice sword fighting anytime of the day without concern. I'd teach you all there is to know about blades, Meta, and all their hidden powers."

"You don't have to take up Dragato's offer, Meta," Sir Arthur assured, stepping forward. "You make the final decision."

"Don't do it, Meta," Kirk insisted. "Meta, you're supposed to be my personal knight, remember? And that means you do what I tell you—_don't leave," _he started crying, and Meta felt sad…but his eyes were still a vibrant green from Dragato's words.

_"You would make a powerful knight, skilled in swordsmanship."_

_ Push yourself…and you will become stronger._

"Listen, Kirk," Meta said, "I know you're my best friend, and that means a lot to me… but if I'm going to be your personal knight when you defeat eNeMeE, I wanna be the best personal knight ever."

Kirk sniffled and rubbed his eyes, but nodded, hugging his friend. "I promise I won't beat him before you're ready, Meta. You'd better write, okay?"

"Okay," he promised. "I'll come right back when I'm ready to serve you, Sir Kirk," he said with a smile.

Meta spent the rest of his day packing up his personal belongings, including his sword handle, still neatly tucked away in its brown sheath, gleaming, and a couple of bags of snatched sweets from the kitchen. When he was ready to go, Kirk hugged him again before he left, and Sir Arthur bid farewell: "Remember, Meta; don't let anyone else stop you from becoming stronger except your own judgment."

As Meta walked away from the school, away from Kirk and Sir Arthur, he wondered if he'd made the right decision about his future. With a smile, he waved back to Kirk, with a promise that they'd find each other soon.


End file.
